Classic Poem

Not on the neck of prince or hound,
— Nor on a woman's finger twined,
May gold from the deriding ground
— Keep sacred that we sacred bind:
Only the heel
Of splendid steel
— Shall stand secure on sliding fate,
— When golden navies weep their freight.

The scarlet hat, the laureled stave
— Are measures, not the springs, of worth;
In a wife's lap, as in a grave,
— Man's airy notions mix with earth.
Seek other spur
Bravely to stir
— The dust in this loud world, and tread
— Alp-high among the whispering dead.

Trust in thyself , — then spur amain:
— So shall Charybdis wear a grace,
Grim Ætna laugh, the Libyan plain
— Take roses to her shriveled face.
This orb — this round
Of sight and sound —
— Count it the lists that God hath built
— For haughty hearts to ride a-tilt.